


Inky Blue

by everyl1ttleth1ng



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Rock Drummer/Princess AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-01 20:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyl1ttleth1ng/pseuds/everyl1ttleth1ng
Summary: His first week of being sober had been hell. The Wildings were relative unknowns back then with only a small, faithful and steadily growing fan base of Flea Bottom locals.It had been that first weekend, six days in, his head still splitting and his tongue perpetually dry, that he’d fallen in love at first sight.Maybe he’d never really gotten sober after all.Maybe he’d only exchanged one addiction for another.Gendry is the heavily tattooed drummer for Westeros’ biggest rock band. Arya is supposed to be a princess but she’s a little too wild to be perpetually kept locked inside a castle.





	1. Chapter 1

Gendry had pinched himself so many times since he’d become the drummer for _The Wildings_ that he had a permanent bruise on his right bicep. The inky blue swirl of his sleeve tattoos rendered it invisible to the naked eye but Gendry could always feel it, especially while he played. It kept him grateful and it kept him wary.

When Ygritte called and asked “Are you sitting down?” he’d felt the bruise pulsing before he’d even touched it.

“You know our gig at Winterfell Stadium on the weekend?”

The completely sold-out one? In the second-biggest venue in Westeros? _That_ bruise had been tender for a fortnight.

“Huh, yeah, thanks for reminding me. Completely slipped my mind.”

“So it turns out that King Eddard called the record company to ask if the princes and princesses can come and watch the show from the wings. Apparently they’re huge fans. It’s too hard for them to organise enough security for the kids to be out in the crowd. And they’re inviting us back to the castle after.”

Ygritte had had to say his name three times loudly before he’d even acknowledged that he’d heard.

“This rock’n’roll life keeps getting weirder and weirder, hey?”

“Yep,” he’d replied. “Yes, it does.”

“Hey, you’re still sober, right Gendry?”

“Yeah, three years last week. Why?”

Ygritte had sighed. “Well, I _was_ asking for your sake - well done, mate. So proud of you. But also, I guess in case anything had changed - and I’m saying this to everyone, Gendry, not just you - you wouldn’t want to have anything on you on that particular evening. Let’s just say the undercover police presence will be _considerable_.”

“Got it. Thanks, Ygritte.”

“That one with all the sexy dark hair might be single, hey?” she had added. “I think he might be my type. Who doesn’t want a prince?”

“Huh, yeah. Alright, night Ygritte.”

“You ok, Gendry?” she’d asked quietly.

“Yeah, mate,” he shot back. “Just knackered.”

“Get some sleep,” she’d said, but she might as well have told him to roller-skate to the moon.

 

 

His first week of being sober had been hell. They were relative unknowns back then with only a small, faithful and steadily growing fan base of Flea Bottom locals. It had been that first weekend, six days in, his head still splitting and his tongue perpetually dry, that he’d fallen in love at first sight.

Maybe he’d never really gotten sober after all.

Maybe he’d only exchanged one addiction for another.

The girl was slight and dark-haired and beautiful and she’d known every word to every song, thrashing around amongst the crowd of usuals and singing every line straight to him, even Ygritte’s favourite risqué ones.

He’d had to focus intently on his rhythms in ways he hadn’t since high school, willing himself to get everything back under control but finding himself unable to tear his eyes away from her.

It was partly the withdrawal, he knew that, but even still, it was mostly her.

When the gig ended and he’d shook hands with all their regulars, refusing all the pints they’d persistently offered to shout him, he’d found her playing pool in the back corner of the dingy pub.

There was a teetering pile of cash on the edge of the pool table and as he approached she’d sunk the last three balls, shrugged kind of apologetically at her opponents and rolled up the cash, tucking it down the front of her top and into her bra.

“I’m Gendry,” he’d said over her shoulder.

“I know,” she’d shot back as she turned to look at him, letting her eyes roam hungrily over his bare arms.

“And you are?”

“Arry,” she’d said, holding out her hand. He should have anticipated the electricity but it probably wouldn’t have stopped him jumping in surprise.

“You felt that too,” she breathed.

Gendry could only nod.

Everything after that was foggy in his memory but he knew it had been perfect.

She’d woken in his arms the next morning and not let him turn on the AM news, pulling him back into bed with her.

She hadn’t let him take her out for breakfast, insisting she’d never been happier with tea and a bowl of slightly stale cereal.

When he’d tried again at lunchtime, vainly eager to be seen with such a knock-out on his arm, she’d tearily confessed everything and that had been it.

She hadn’t even let him drive her anywhere, desperate that he not be caught up in any of it.

When he’d walked despondently back into his bedroom later, a flurry of hundred dragon notes still drifted across the floor, blown here and there by his crappy, sputtering space heater. He’d gathered them up and banked them that day, vowing never to spend the tidy sum until he could work out a fitting way to spend it, somehow, on her.

Even now he could still remember the taste of her, the feel of her lying in his arms. The way she’d told him she’d known she loved him since she saw their first YouTube video and had religiously watched and rewatched everything they’d posted since.

He’d turned on the news that night and read the papers the following day. While he had been rolling ecstatically into and out of his bed with her, her combat boots kicked off on his bedroom floor, solid in the floating sea of her extravagant winnings that had drifted to the floor making them laugh uproariously when he’d unclasped her bra, the city was in lockdown, a frantic manhunt underway for the missing Princess Arya.

He saw the euphoria when she returned to the castle unharmed and breathed his own sigh of relief that she was safe.

He knew then how much she’d saved him by not letting him be seen with her.

He also knew then that he’d never, ever be with her again.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Mott used to subscribe to all the gossip magazines, claiming the customers liked to flick through them while they waited to drop off and pick up their cars. 

Gendry suspected Mott of nursing a secret crush on Queen Catelyn. But who was he to judge? The minute a new magazine arrived, he pounced on it, frantic for a photo or even just a mention of Arya. 

Until her disappearance, the king and queen had been fiercely protective of their children’s privacy. The only photos the press got hold of were their childhood portraits, formally and stiffly posed. He would never have placed her in that pub based on those.

Since then - since the day Princess Arya’s photo had been frantically plastered all over the media and she’d come home safe, admitting to being her own kidnapper - security had considerably tightened, but where it came to the press, the whole family had relaxed their guard. Maybe they decided it worked in their favour that the public knew their royal faces.

Sometimes she had new hair or wore the “wrong shade” of gown to some distant royal cousin’s wedding. She celebrated one nameday then another nameday and then another, was papped on the arm of some well-dressed bozos (always managing to look unimpressed) and, scandalously, sunbathing in a white bikini on a yacht off the coast of Braavos.

 

Gendry pored over an interview with her in the Special Royal Edition of  _ Teen Westeros _ . He’d loved reading it so much at the garage that he’d had to sheepishly buy his own copy at a newsagent where he felt sure nobody who knew him would see. Even then he’d joked with the cashier and pretended he was buying it for his sick mum, laughing about her pathetic but mostly harmless obsession with the highborns. 

He’d never even known the woman. He hoped he wasn’t pissing off a ghost with republican leanings.

There were double spreads on Prince Robb, Prince Jon, Princess Sansa, Princess Arya, Prince Bran and Prince Rickon, the text of each broken up by images of them in implausibly middle-aged outfits. There was even a pull-out poster of the whole royal family in formal attire. Arya looked lovely but simultaneously like she wanted to kill everyone - just like he remembered her.

He found the interview so intriguing he’d read it before bed every night for a year, refreshing that bruise on his arm every time.

 

_ Arya Stark greets me warmly as we take a seat in her family’s recently renovated and elegantly decorated library tower. With stunning views over all of Winterfell, a roaring fire and plush seating set cosily within the shelves upon shelves of priceless books, this room is one all of Westeros would envy. _

_ The princess is comfortably but stylishly dressed in a soft red cashmere jumper and grey jeans and, as we talk, she slips her bare feet out of her slim black loafers and tucks her legs under her. _

 

Gendry had sat back and grinned stupidly at that, recalling her doing exactly the same on his ratty old couch as she’d eaten her cereal. 

That was before he’d realised he’d been harbouring a missing princess.

 

_ When I ask her about her favourite pastimes, she excitedly lists a number of martial arts with which I’m unfamiliar. I apologise and she kindly forgives my ignorance.  _

_ Music seems a topic we can get further on. _

**Do you have a favourite band?**

_ The Wildings _ !

**So, rock?**

Sure, I like rock, but I _love_ _The Wildings_.

**How long have you been a fan?**

Oh, forever. Since they released their very first music video on YouTube.

**So this has been a teenage obsession you’ve never gotten over?**

I suppose now we have to call it an adult obsession. I will never let it die.

**That drummer needs to call me.**

_ Arya smirks knowingly. She feels me on this, I can tell. _

**Does it bother you? The level of control you live under?**

_ She shrugs. _

I think you’re supposed to get used to it.

**I hope you don’t mind me bringing this up but there was an incident, a few years back now, where you escaped it all, just overnight, less than 24 hours in total. All of Kings Landing went crazy hunting for you. Can you tell us now? Where did you go?**

_ Arya looks at me coyly. _

Those were the best twenty-four hours of my life. 

_ She’s whispering, her expression dreamy. It takes me a moment to snap her back to reality from wherever she’s gone in her mind. _

**I bet the King and Queen don’t like to hear you talking that way.**

_ She shrugs again. _

I hatched a plan to incorporate the best of what I experienced that night into my everyday life. I’ve been working on it ever since. Been some time in the execution though. 

_ She gnaws at her bottom lip, a cloud across her face. _

I hope I haven’t left it too long.

**Let’s talk about your love life. Anyone special?**

_ She snorts at me. _

**Well, what about your dream date?**

That’s a bit too theoretical to enter into.

**How so?**

Well, it would depend on the man in question, wouldn’t it?

**You smirked at the thought of Gendry Waters from** **_The Wildings_ ** **earlier. Where would you want him to take you?**

_ She looks momentarily panicked.  _

Err, I don’t know. 

_ She waves a hand around to indicate her opulent surroundings. _

I can’t imagine someone like him would want to get caught up in a circus like this.

**But what if he did?**

_ I’m pressing her, I know. She thinks about it, chewing on the inside of her cheek. _

_ Suddenly she smiles. It’s blinding. _

Gendry Waters? Is that who you want me to talk about? 

_ I nod, egging her on. _

Gendry Waters could take me anywhere.

_ I knew she was feeling me. Same, girl. Same. _

 

The interview had then wandered into some discussion of fashion designers and her travels in Braavos and though he still read it to the very end every night, just for the pleasure of Arya’s thinly disguised utter boredom telegraphing itself to him from between the lines, there were no further hints that she was thinking of him. What he had in that first part of the interview was more than enough.

 

But now, three years later, Arya was finally going to be at another of their shows. She’d be with all her siblings and all her security. _ All the king’s horses and all the king’s men _ . Not exactly the right sort of start to an evening that could lead them anywhere that they’d been before. 

He had to prepare himself for tantalising possibility ending in inescapable disappointment. Sounded a lot like life.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't stop. Won't stop. Love to know what you think!
> 
> If you like this and want to read an AMAZING Gendrya WIP that's sort of similar but way better than this, I am LOVING:   
> re: weapons (and you)   
> by scrubclub
> 
> The author of that one is a TOTAL stranger to me but it's my current favourite fic that I've read over and over again and I can't help feeling it had a bit of an influence on this chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

It seemed a lost cause, staring into the jumble of tattered jeans and navy and black tank tops in his drawers, but Gendry tried to dress with extra care. Ygritte too, he noticed - heels higher, red hair softer, eye makeup smokier.

If The Hound dressed up, no one could tell. Their fans loved him for it.

Missandei always looked impeccably put together and yet totally punk rock. Many a magazine article he’d come across on his hunt for Arya had been dedicated to helping readers ‘get her look’.

Tormund remained his impossible self, all wild ginger tangles and black leather trousers.  All he cared about was whether the royals might be accompanied by the towering blonde woman often photographed with them on their rare public appearances. He’d worked out she was their head of security and claimed she was the most magnificent creature he’d ever seen. He’d even said as much in interviews and been disappointed when she hadn’t immediately gotten in contact.

“I bet this whole concert visit was her idea,” Tormund said. “How else could she find a chance to meet me?”

Ygritte caught Gendry’s eye and the pair of them snickered.

 

The first challenge of the evening was hurriedly meeting the royals as they shuffled past them to get onstage.

Even with the overpowering stimulus, Gendry managed a couple of lightning-fast observations:

  1. The blonde woman was vaguely disgusted by Tormund. It didn’t put so much as a dent in the guitarists enthusiasm for her.
  2. Ygritte had _every_ chance with the wild-haired Prince Jon.
  3. Arya’s gaze was fixed on him from the moment he emerged from the greenroom. 
  4. When she politely put out her hand to shake his, he felt just as much electricity as ever. He could see in her widened eyes and softly parted lips that she felt it too.
  5. She said, “Nice to officially meet you.” She emphasised the word _officially_ in a way that seemed significant.  
  




Then they were on stage and the set had started and he had to force himself not to let his gaze wander into the wings too often. 

Robb, Sansa, Bran and Rickon bopped politely to the music.

Jon and Arya screamed every word and danced around like lunatics.

Ygritte had written some significantly more risqué lyrics since the first time Arya had sung to him back in Flea Bottom. He saved up his glances into the wings to coincide with the lines so explicit they had conscientious parents confiscating their kids’ albums. 

Yep, there she was, every time, eyes boring into him, her grin wicked.

He caught Ygritte occasionally looking left when she sang those lines too. 

That hairy Prince Jon was dead meat.

 

Four standing ovations the enormous crowd had given them that night. Three times he had to squeeze back and forth past her for encores, trying desperately to remain a gentleman in front of her brother while she grew bolder and bolder. 

On the last sweep offstage Arya effectively groped him. He escaped her grasp and turned wide, amusedly outraged eyes on her only to see her indicating her brother’s dropped jaw with a jerk of her head as Ygritte made a performance of admiring his t-shirt from extremely close up, a hand grasping each of his princely biceps.

“Gendry travels with me!” Arya announced and Gendry looked wildly about him, trying to work out what on earth she’d just laid claim to.

The tall blonde woman he’d heard them call Brienne sighed and shrugged. She looked at him inquiringly. 

“That alright with you, Mr Waters?”

“Err,” he looked helplessly at his band mates who, apart from Ygritte still giggling with Jon and Tormund leering at Brienne, were standing about awkwardly, waiting to be told what to do. “Sure, I guess? If that works for you.”

She nodded decisively. “Arya, you go first then,” she ordered briskly. “Jaime, take them down.”

Gendry heard her muttering something into her sleeve about ‘readying Nymeria at Door 4’.

The golden-haired security guard handed them each a motorcycle helmet and waited until they’d put it on before opening the door.

“We’re going to look a bit suspicious climbing into a car wearing these aren’t we?” Gendry asked.

He couldn’t see her face behind the mirrored visor but he couldn’t miss the exasperated shake of her head.

The door opened, she grabbed his hand and tugged him toward a gleaming black motorcycle. Behind them as they clambered on (her expertly, him clumsily) hovered another helmeted figure mounted on a second bike.

“Shall we see if we can lose him?” 

He had no idea how he could hear her so clearly over the roar of the engine as she kicked it into life.

“You try,” another distinctly male voice threatened in his ear, “and I will have your head, Princess Arya. That’s unless your father gets to you first.”

“Not gonna try it, Grey Worm,” she said dully. “Honestly, I’m not. But I  _ am _ going to uninvite you from this conversation.”

Gendry heard a jaunty chime that seemed to reverberate around his helmet.

“Bluetooth?” he asked.

“Nope. Magic.” He loved that he could hear the eyeroll in her tone. “Are you gonna hold on or what?”

Gendry glanced over his shoulder at the lean, menacing-looking guy behind them.

“Will he shoot me?” he asked nervously.

“Well, he’s not  _ supposed _ to shoot civilians,” she replied, laughing. “Especially not when  _ I’m _ in the path of the bullet.”

Gendry pushed himself forwards on the seat so that his legs bracketed hers and tentatively slid his arms around her waist, feeling all sorts of jolts firing in all sorts of directions.

He felt her press back against him a moment, and everything got considerably worse.

“This is nice,” she said quietly.

“Mmmm,” he sighed, tightening his grip on her.

With a sudden jerk she manoeuvred them out into the traffic, the second bike hot on their tail.

“Can anyone else hear us now?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, “though I suppose I don’t know all of Brienne’s tricks.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad some of you are getting into this! Thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

“Gods, I’ve missed you, Arry.” 

Gendry felt so good saying it to something other than her picture in a magazine (or the unyielding void) for a change.

“Good,” she said. “‘Cause I’ve been damn near pining for you.”

“Really?” He hated how breathy his voice had gotten. “I saw that interview you did.”

“A regular reader of  _ Teen Westeros _ are you, Mr Waters?”

“I neither admit nor deny,” he replied. “Though, in its defence, the recipe section is unparalleled.”

“What need have you for recipes when you only keep stale cereal in the house?”

He grinned at the memory of her standing amusedly appalled inside his empty pantry wearing only his discarded tank top. 

That moment she shifted her weight left to turn, leaning low to the bike, and he gripped her even tighter working hard to maintain his playful tone. “I’ve broadened my culinary horizons considerably since then, I’ll have you know.”

“Have you now?” 

“One never knows when royalty might pop by.”

“The gods know I wanted to, Gendry. I wanted to see you so badly.”

“I’ve seen it for myself now,” he said, settling into the sway and surge of the ride. “I get that we’re not talking minor obstacles. Even watching the news that night, you getting home, the huge reaction. I was sure then that I would never see you again.”

“How are you feeling about tonight’s development then?”

“Right now, just with you? This is amazing. Way more than I’d hoped. Truthfully, I haven’t been letting myself get my hopes up too high. Not sure I could survive another night with you only to lose you again.”

“To be clear,” she said sadly, “there’s no ‘night with me’ on the cards tonight. Not like last time anyway. I know. Trust me, I’ve considered every single possibility.”

“You have?” he asked fondly, wishing he could see her face. “Tell me the closest thing you found to a loophole.”

“I recorded Jaime saying all his little ‘ _ Over _ ’s and ‘ _ Roger That _ ’s to Brienne but I couldn’t really bring myself to poison him. Thought it might put a bit of a dampener on the mood, you know, having to deal with his body before we could rip each other’s clothes off.”

“Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m kidding, Gendry.”

“But yeah. Gives a sense of the scale of it.”

“Yeah.”

She was silent for a while as she guided them expertly through the streets, Winterfell rushing by in a blur of light.

“I like that the stated aim is to rip each other’s clothes off, though,” he said quietly.

He could almost hear her smile. “Thought you’d enjoy that.”

“Though it’s not  _ only _ for my body that you want me, right?” It was  _ mostly  _ banter.

“Gendry.” She sounded so soft. “If I could work this out so that you didn’t just end up trapped in all of  this with me, believe me, I would.”

“What does trapped mean though?” he asked. “Doesn’t it just mean  _ safe _ ?”

“I  _ was _ safe that night,” she shot back.

“That’s debatable,” he snorted. “You spent it in Flea Bottom, in bed with a total stranger, the drummer from some unwashed band you showed up to watch.”

“I have  _ never _ thought of you as a total stranger.” He heard the hurt in her voice. 

“I meant that’s how others would think of it.”

“As if I care what others think! And you’re not just from  _ some band _ .”

“I was then.  _ The Wildings _ weren’t even fashionably obscure back then. We were just obscure obscure.”

“And now you’re megastars,” she said proudly. 

“Am I famous enough to fall into the category of ‘celebrities deemed acceptable to date royalty’?” he asked hopefully.

“I am  _ so _ glad you said that.”

“You are? Why?”

“Coz I’m really eager to find out.”

“Is that why you were all ‘So nice to  _ officially _ meet you’ earlier?”

“You’ve seen right through me.”

“So how do we play it when we get to the castle?”

“Mutual attraction, sparks flying, never taking our eyes off each other, vibing so hard that no one could possibly miss it.”

He laughed. “Not sure if there’s any other way tonight could go, to be honest.”

The castle loomed into view and she fell quiet again.

“Are you ok, Arry?”

She sighed. “If we’re successful, there’s no guarantee you’ll like what comes next.”

“Does it involve being with you? ‘Cause, honestly, that’s all I want.”

“You say that now.”

“Arya, if there was anyone I  _ could _ have said it to, I’d have been saying it perpetually for three whole years.”

“What if it means we always have this goon somewhere on our tail?”

Gendry turned to see the other bike just over his shoulder.

“Presumably they leave you alone sometimes.”

“It’s rare.”

“Have any of your siblings ever tried to have a relationship?”

She laughed. “We all have. Just none of them have been officially sanctioned ones.”

“Ygritte is pretty into your brother. What if they created a scandal? Would that take some of the heat off you?”

“Jon doesn’t need any help creating scandal. Besides, with him, Mum and Dad would barely bat an eyelid.”

“Alright, what if I’m the best behaved, most charming boy your lady mother has ever seen. Will she let me stay over in your room sometimes?”

“Do you still play drums for the biggest rock band in Westeros and have magnificently sexy full-body tatts?”

“Are you implying those things won’t work in my favour when it comes to the Queen?”

She snorted.

They leaned to the right as she began to circle the castle wall, drawing ever closer to the guarded gates.

“Arya, seriously, this might be the last chance you and I have to talk without being overheard for who knows how long.”

“And you haven’t even told me you love me yet.”

That silenced him a moment.

“What if I was about to?” he said quietly. “Would that be some sort of joke to you? Some tattooed drummer in love with a princess?”

“Seven Hells,” she muttered, glancing over her shoulder. “I wish I could work out how to lose him.”

Her lack of response to his question rankled. “So that we could do  _ what, _ Arya?”

“Run away together, stupid.”

“And why would you want to do that?”

“Because I’m a princess in love with a tattooed drummer and in a minute I have to introduce him to my parents.”

He grinned so hard he felt the helmet shift on his head. “Only a minute?”

“I wasn’t kidding, Gendry. I love you.”

She brought the bike to a halt in front of a massive system of barricades set into the impossibly high stone wall.

“I wasn’t kidding either.”

The boom gate rose to admit them, their escort close behind.

“I know.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, the formatting of this fic, typed sensibly into a Google doc, is SO much nicer than the formatting of "Doomed" which I am mostly typing straight into Notes on my phone... There's a lesson to be learned there, if only I could work out what it was ;)  
> Thanks for the love, peeps.


	5. Chapter 5

Gendry trailed through the castle after Arya, his eyes practically popping out of his head.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before, Arry. Is your bedroom just as fancy?”

She glanced coyly at him over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“What are the odds of me finding out?” 

She nodded towards Grey Worm stalking ahead of them.

“Extremely low.”

“So what are we all going to do tonight? Play charades?”

“Maybe,” she laughed. “Are you hungry?”

“Always.”

“That’s good.”

Grey Worm suddenly disappeared ahead of them and Gendry grabbed her hand, yanking her backwards into his arms.

Their kiss was rushed and sweet and full of echoes from before as well as the sudden glowing promise of a genuine future.

Chest heaving, forehead pressed against hers, Gendry held Arya’s grey gaze, hating the thought of ever letting her go. “Think we can maybe find a spot to hide later?”

She smiled sadly. “No chance.”

“Ok.”

He self-consciously rubbed a hand over his bare arm. “Don’t suppose you could find me something that would cover these?”

She looked at him quizzically.

“No need for your mum to see them straight away. May as well try to let her warm up to me first.”

Arya pressed herself up on her toes to kiss him again before yanking her phone out of her back pocket.

“Jon must have something that will fit you,” she muttered, her fingers flying over the screen.

Within a few minutes, Grey Worm surreptitiously popped his head back into the hallway but the approaching voices from the other direction assured him his charges couldn’t remain unchaperoned for long. He ducked back out of sight.

Jon’s hairy head was first to come into view. He’d gallantly offered his arm to Ygritte who, like Gendry, was marveling at the magnificence all around them.

As he grew nearer he tugged a white jumper from around his waist and threw it to Arya.

She grinned and handed it to Gendry.

“Thanks, mate,” he said, sliding his arms into the soft fabric before he realised what he’d said. “Erm... Oh, Hells...” he sputtered. “I mean, thank you, y-your highness?” 

Jon laughed. “Save that for my father. Mate is fine by me.”

Gendry pulled the jumper over his head and turned to Arya who immediately began to tug at it to adjust it for him, her hands roving possessively over his chest and upper arms.

Tormund gave him an extravagant wink over the top of her head. 

Gendry scratched nervously at his whiskery cheek. “Err, what  _ do _ we call you lot in front of your parents?”

Arya looked back to her brother, a fond smile on her face. “He wants Mother to like him.”

“Hence the jumper? Sorry I’m not a bit bigger. That’s a snug fit on you.”

“Arya doesn’t seem to mind,” said Ygritte cheekily.

Gendry was relieved to see that Arya and Jon only laughed.

Jon rolled his eyes at his sister and turned back to Gendry. “A shame to cover those up otherwise. You’re a walking work of art, mate.”

“Isn’t he?” Arya agreed, beaming. But she was quickly reminded of their dilemma. “What do you think, Jon, about the address?”

Jon ran a hand through his wild hair, a grimace on his face. “Gods, I guess it has to be ‘Your Grace’ for all of us. At least to start with? Sorry about that. But Father will probably stop you after the first time you try. In their defence, they do get how awkward it all is.” He looked genuinely apologetic.

Ygritte motioned the other band members over. “Did you hear that? Tormund? Clegane? Missandei? It’s “Your Grace” all round.”

“Not very rock’n’roll, is it?” muttered The Hound.

“Gendry’s trying to make a good impression,” Ygritte hissed.

“Aren’t we all?” said Gendry defensively. “I didn’t know the plan was to try and piss off the royal family in their own home.”

“Please,” said Arya, almost begging. “If they like you we might be able to hang out again.”

Gendry looked around at his friends. 

Missandei was eyeing off Grey Worm who had re-entered the hallway and dutifully fixed his gaze on the carpet. Tormund was sidling ever closer to Brienne. Ygritte was half draped over Jon who was whispering something patently hilarious in her ear. Only The Hound stood off to the side looking grim.

“At least come and have something to eat?” Arya pleaded, her eyes on Clegane. 

“You play Mortal Kombat?” Rickon asked him from down near the towering man’s knees. “The original?”

The Hound looked down at him and almost smiled. “Does anyone anymore?” he asked gruffly. “That game must be a hundred years old by now.”

“Not quite but yeah!” Rickon enthused. “The old games are the best. I’m a connoisseur.”

Robb ruffled his younger brother’s hair. “We’ve got a pretty sweet set-up. Maybe you could take us on?”

Eventually The Hound gave a grudging nod and Arya visibly relaxed.

“Shall we move out of the hallway now?” Grey Worm suggested.

Brienne murmured something into her sleeve then turned to address them. “The King and Queen will receive you now.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeek! So glad you're enjoying this lovely peeps! Thank you!  
> Your comments are pure joy!


	6. Chapter 6

Gendry entered the most ornately decorated room he had ever been in, conscious he was wearing a prince’s jumper, and a fine white one at that, to cover up his tattoos. He’d never worn anything that felt quite so soft. He didn’t let himself think about how much it must have cost, he just poured all his energy into not letting himself spill anything on it.

King Eddard and Queen Catelyn were far more relaxed than Gendry had anticipated. Ygritte barely got out her first “Your Grace” and half a curtsey before the Queen laughed and said “No, no, _please_ don’t do that. Our kids never get to spend time with anyone normal and Ned and I feel dreadful about it. The last thing we want is for you to be bowing and scraping around any of us.”

“So they can just call us by our actual names, Mother?” asked Bran, relieved.

“Gods, yes,” Catelyn replied. “And Ned and I too.”

“It’s funny you call them normal, Mother,” Robb observed wryly. “They just performed to a sold-out crowd at Winterfell Stadium.”

King Eddard laughed. “It’s just possible that we might have lost a bit of perspective along the way.”

“So who do we have here?” Catelyn asked her children.

Jon spoke first. “This is Ygritte, Mother. She’s the lead singer of _The Wildings_.” Ygritte shook hands with the queen and king in turn, her face flushed almost as red as her hair.

“And she writes most of our songs,” Tormund added, introducing himself. “I play guitar and I’m the back-up ginger.”

King Eddard gave him a broad grin, throwing his arm around his eldest daughter. “Our Sansa is similarly kissed by fire.”

Tormund chuckled. “I like you, sir.”

“Please,” the king held up his hand. “Just Ned is fine.”

“Mum, Dad, this is Gendry,” said Arya, propelling him forward with a firm hand at his back.

Ned gave him an impressed once over. “I know _your_ name, son,” he said. “This one talks about you all the time. Drums, isn’t it?”

Gendry nodded, shaking his outstretched hand and then glancing back at a blushing Arya.

Catelyn smiled as she took his hand next. “It’s possible we know all the words to your songs,” she said. “Arya and Jon play your music non-stop around here.”

“Do you mind it?” Missandei asked, after she’d been introduced as another guitarist.

Ned shrugged. “I think it’s growing on me?” He turned to Clegane in the corner. “And you must be The Hound. Bass, am I correct?”

Clegane nodded, silently shaking the king and then the queen’s hand.

“The Hound’s gonna ‘verse us in Mortal Kombat,” said Rickon excitedly. “And I’m gonna beat him!”

“Them’s fighting words, lad,” Cleagane grumbled.

Bran laughed. “Maybe you’ve met your match at last, Rick!”

“Well, we might leave you to it,” Catleyn said, looking pointedly at Ned. “Don’t forget there’s an absolute feast in the kitchen for you.”

“Do we really need Grey Worm hovering around?” Arya whined to her father. She turned to look at him. “No offence, Grey Worm. It’s just that you’re no fun at all. Ever.”

Her bodyguard shot back a proud little smirk that belied her claim.

Ned laughed. “Grey Worm, Jaime, Brienne - you got them all safely inside the castle walls so the three of you are off duty. If you want to stay for a bit and eat with these characters, you’re welcome, but otherwise, feel free to take a well-deserved break until our friends need to leave us.”

Ned and Catelyn bid their children and their visitors a gracious farewell and made their departure.

Bran was the one to get the rest of them moving. “This way to the kitchen!”

Gendry laughed to see that Tormund had immediately engaged Brienne and Jamie in conversation such that they obviously felt it would be rude to walk away. Grey Worm had been similarly engaged by Missandei but somehow seemed a lot less reluctant.

“Seems like your hope of shaking your bodyguards backfired,” Gendry commented as the two of them trailed along at the back of the pack.

Arya shook her head, slipping her hand into his and intertwining their fingers in a way that made his breath hitch. “They’re actually mostly fine when they’re off duty. Even Grey Worm can be fun with a couple of drinks under his belt.”

 

The kitchen had a very different feel to the rest of the castle. It was still enormous but if Gendry squinted he could trick himself into believing it was equipped with just the normal appliances and the normal amount of supplies. But there was nothing normal about what was laid out before them on the island bench.

“You know when people use that expression ‘a mountain of food’?” asked Ygritte. “This is the kind of thing they’re thinking of when they say it.”

It was the most astounding make-your-own-sandwich set up Gendry had ever seen. Every type of bread and meat and cheese and salad and condiment was stylishly arrayed for their consumption.

Even Tormund halted in his boasting to Brienne to take in the sight in awed silence.

Sansa handed Clegane a plate and took one for herself. “Go on,” she urged, looking around at them all. “Eat!”

The Hound didn’t need telling twice.

 

“So, tell me about your bike,” Gendry asked through a mouthful of food. “Was that an Indian FRT 1200?”

“And here I was thinking you’d be so caught up in having me in your arms again, you’d be oblivious to everything else,” Arya laughed.

“I couldn’t possibly have missed that your bike’s a stunner,” he replied, laughing. “It all just adds to your appeal.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“It’s got a 1203-cc twin, right?”

“Yep,” she said proudly, “Around 120 horsepower. Plenty for its weight.”

“It’s under 500 pounds dry?”

“Uh huh.”

“And I liked the inverted front fork.”

“You’d like the rear suspension even more.”

“How do you find those big Brembo brakes?”

“They’re just what I need, especially when I’m trying to lose Grey Worm on his postie bike.”

“I heard that,” her bodyguard called from across the room.

Gendry saw that the man was even smiling. He wondered if it had anything to do with Missandei sitting close beside him.

Jaime and Brienne, however, edged toward the door while Tormund allowed himself to become momentarily distracted by the game of Mortal Kombat raging in the corner. While he bellowed rowdy unsolicited instructions to Celgane, they slipped out of the room and into the hallway beyond.

“Two down,” Arya whispered.

“What are you planning when we lose the third?” he asked.

“ _If_ we lose the third,” she hissed back.

“What then?”

“I try to sneak you to my room, of course.”

Gendry looked back at her, uncertain. “Is that the best use of what I hope might be the first of many visits to your place?”

“You really want to come back here?” Her eyes were wide and surprised.

“This is where you live, isn’t it? I thought I told you, I want to be anywhere you are.”

Arya sighed. “Alright, we might have to play it cool for tonight. But are you man enough to ask Brienne if you can take me out tomorrow?”

“Can we take the bike again?”

“I’ll be able to talk Grey Worm into letting me give you a ride home tonight,” she said. “So unless it’s my bike you want to date, we could do something different tomorrow.”

Gendry grinned. “What did you have in mind?”

“How do you feel about jumping out of a plane?”

“Seven Hells, that’s how I feel _every_ time you show up.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To manage your expectations ahead of the game: only two chapters to go, neither of them contain jumping out of planes. I think you'll still like them though, given that you've gotten this far!
> 
> I know nothing about motorbikes. This is just me condensing the ravings of some enthusiast who'd compiled a best bikes article into Gendrya dialogue. Sorry if it made no sense to any actual motorbike enthusiasts! I might as well have just copied and pasted in some Portuguese and hoped it formed functional sentences...
> 
> Thanks for the ongoing love, people!


	7. Chapter 7

On the return trip to the hotel later that night, Gendry learned that Arya wasn’t the only one with a bike. Jon and Ygritte as well as Grey Worm followed after them to the garages so there was no opportunity for pulling her into a shady corner. The others must have been bundled into the dark cars with the tinted windows that glided past as they donned their helmets. 

“Wanna drive?” Arya asked, raising her visor.

“Me?” Gendry asked. “Drive this? I think it’s a little bit out of my league.”

“Maybe that was true when you were a Flea Bottom mechanic. A few things have changed since then.”

Gendry considered her a moment. She was right. If he so much as scratched her bike he could comfortably afford to replace it a few times over. The thought of the money reminded him of that sea of notes listlessly drifting across his bedroom floor.

She held out the bike and he clambered on, sliding to the front of the seat and loving the sensation of her climbing on behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

The pedal was exquisitely sensitive and the bike roared to life as he touched the throttle.

“Who’s in our loop right now?” he asked.

“Just us,” she assured him. “Grey Worm’s taken the hint.”

“Is he eavesdropping on your brother instead?”

Arya laughed. Gendry could feel the tense and quiver of her stomach muscles against his back. “He’s a bit of a prude. Judging from the looks your friend has been giving my brother all night and her uncanny talent as a lyricist, I imagine he’ll yeet himself out of that conversation pretty quickly.”

“So it’s not that they spy on you,” he clarified, pulling the bike out behind Jon’s to meander down the long drive to the gates.

“No, spy is not the word. They monitor,  _ closely _ , which can often be just as bad.”

“But I could get your number, right?” He heard the desperation in his own voice but couldn’t do anything about it. “I can’t just leave you again, Arya. Not without some way of keeping in touch.”

She wound her right arm more tightly around him, gripped him more firmly between her thighs, and released her other arm’s hold of him.

Suddenly he felt her hand groping about on his left buttock.

“Err, Arya? Is that wise? While I’m driving?”

“I’m fishing in your back pocket for your phone, Gendry.  _ Honestly _ , what do you take me for?”

He laughed. “It’s my animal magnetism. You know you can’t resist me.”

“Not sure I’ve ever really imagined a bull as having all that much in the way of magnetism,” she said, making a triumphant noise as she finally released his phone from the pocket of his jeans.

“A bull, hey? Why’s that?”

“Ever heard the expression about the china shop?” she murmured, concentrating on his phone.

“Well, if I’m a bull, you’re a wolf.”

“Wolf,” she said quietly, measuring it. “I can live with that.”

“We’ll have some pretty messed up kids though.”

Arya laughed, wedging his phone back into his pocket and sliding her free arm back around his waist.

“You better call me, Bull.”

“Every night,” he promised.

“Really?” she asked fondly. “You’ll call me every night?”

“It’s better than re-reading that interview in  _ Teen Westeros _ .”

“You do that every night?”

“For a year now.”

“You should be able to recite it.”

Gendry put on his best gossip show host voice. “ _ Arya Stark greets me warmly as we take a seat in her family’s recently renovated and elegantly decorated library tower…” _

“No. Way.” Arya chuckled.

“ _ With stunning views over all of Winterfell, a roaring fire and plush seating set cosily within the shelves upon shelves of priceless books, this room is one all of Westeros would envy. _

_ The princess is comfortably but stylishly dressed in a soft red cashmere jumper and grey jeans and, as we talk, she slips her bare feet out of her slim black loafers and tucks her legs under her. _ ”

“You weren’t kidding about the every night thing, were you?”

Gendry shrugged. “It was the closest I had to actually talking to you. And up until this week I never thought I’d see you again.”

The bright lights of their hotel were now visible and Grey Worm pulled in front to lead them around to the back entrance.

“What do we do when we get off the bike?” he asked. “Can I kiss you goodnight? Or will I end up in a headlock?”

“Planning it is  _ so _ unromantic,” she sighed as he pulled the bike to a halt and kicked out the stand.

“Hey, I’m not the one who comes with a dangerous entourage.”

Gendry had his helmet off in time to see Arya lift hers over her head and shake out her long dark hair.

He stood beside her, watching uncertainly, unsure of whether or not he could even touch her.

She glanced over to where Ygritte had jumped Jon, pressing him up against the wall of the hotel. The prince was responding eagerly.

“Better go and break that up, Grey Worm,” said Arya cheekily.

Grey Worm shook his head and wandered to the perimeter, his back turned decisively toward them all.

“See?” Arya whispered. “A good man lurks under all of that bristle.”

Gendry gently gripped her shoulders and stroked his hands down her arms to interlock their fingers. “A real kiss goodnight,” he whispered eagerly.

Arya pressed herself forward, holding his hands behind his back as she surged up on her toes to press her lips to his.

Before he knew what was happening, she’d let go of him, sliding her hands under his jumper and suddenly yanking it up over his head.

He gave an undignified yelp as the neckline threatened to take off his ears. She immediately pulled it on.

“This one is mine now,” she whispered, reaching up to run a hand through his ruffled hair. 

“You’ll never take it off?” he asked softly, grinning as he wrapped his arms back around her.

“Not unless Jon really insists.”

“It’s a pretty nice jumper, you know. Much nicer than any I own.”

“Do  _ not _ let Sansa hear you say anything like that. She’ll insist we take you shopping.”

“That doesn’t sound  _ so _ bad.”

“Says the man who has never seen my sister shop.”

Gendry just let himself look at her a moment, revelling in the sudden stillness of her grey eyes on his.

“I love you, Arya,” he whispered. “I have since the moment I saw you.”

“Same goes,” she whispered back. 

This time when she kissed him, her lips were soft against his, the moment marked by an aching tenderness the two of them had not yet found the leisure to experience. 

Eventually, Grey Worm turned around and discreetly cleared his throat.

“Nice to think this might not be our last kiss after all,” he said hopefully as they broke reluctantly apart.

“Might not?” she asked with an arch of her perfect brow. “All you have to do is call me, Gendry.”

“I promised I would.”

“Talk to you tomorrow then,” she whispered.

“Goodnight, Arya,” he whispered back.

They turned to see Jon and Ygritte emerging from behind a dumpster frantically adjusting their clothing.

“See what I mean about Jon and scandal?” she asked giggling.

Gendry nodded toward Ygritte. “He’s met his match then.”

Grey Worm approached, prompting Arya and Jon to move obediently towards their bikes and don their helmets.

Gendry lifted Arya’s hand from where it rested on the handlebar closest to him, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her knuckles.

She raised her visor and gave him a quick wink as Jon and Grey Worm revved their bikes. Slamming it back down, she pulled out after them.

Ygritte and Gendry watched as their tail lights disappeared around the corner.

“Well, I’m in deep,” Ygritte laughed, turning to look at him. “You?”

“Have been for years.” 

“You?” she asked incredulously. “Gendry Waters has harboured a crush on Princess Arya of all people? For years?”

“What can I say?” He shrugged, grinning. “I  _ love _ the royal family.”

 

**Gendry:** _Night, Princess._

 

**Arya:** _Don’t call me that._

 

**Gendry:** _Night, She-Wolf._

 

**Arya:** _ Much better. _

 

**Gendry:** _Now you have my number._

 

**Arya:** _You may live to regret that._

 

**Gendry:** _Never._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter to go now. It's an epilogue of sorts. Hope you'll enjoy it!  
> Thanks for all the love, people!
> 
> Also, I'm a staggering 6302 words into a new fic called "Head Of The River" in which Arya is the new principal at a posh school and Gendry is the head rowing coach. I'm sure I'll lose all self-control and start posting it soon but if you liked this AU, keep an eye out for it!
> 
> I will hopefully post a new chapter to "Doomed" today or tomorrow. Heck knows how I'm getting all this writing done. I imagine the pile of things I am neglecting is growing higher and higher! All the kind encouragement from this fandom has certainly been playing a part! Thank you!


	8. Chapter 8

**Teen Westeros Special Royal Edition #3 - A Second Royal Wedding!**

 

 _The connection between_ The Wildings _and the Royal Family is a fairytale that has taken all of Westeros by surprise, perhaps none more than King Eddard and Queen Catelyn. After Prince Jon brought his Wildings singer, Princess Ygritte, into the fold last year, all of Westeros celebrated last week to learn that, at last, Princess Arya had secured the hand of her beloved Wildings drummer, Gendry Waters. I sat down with Princess Arya at Winterfell to discuss her upcoming nuptials._

 

_This time, in the mild spring weather, I’m led to Winterfell’s greenhouse garden where Arya waits for me, stylishly positioned amidst the blooms. As always, the princess is impeccably dressed but I can’t help noticing the dark outline of a wolf tattoo showing through the fabric of her sheer golden blouse, the influence, perhaps of her brand new well-inked fiancé. She kicks off her sandals and tucks her feet under her just like the last time we met._

 

**Nice to see you again, Your Grace. It’s been an eventful few years since we last met!**

Yes, I suppose it has!

 **And now you and Gendry Waters are to marry! Congratulations! Does this mean the royal family tours with** **_The Wildings_ ** **from now on?**

Jon’s indispensable obviously, he keeps Ygritte out of trouble. Rickon and Bran have an ongoing video game battle with Tormund and The Hound that’s been raging for years now, so they’d fit right in. Sansa is always trying to get a say in Ygritte’s wardrobe and she _loves_ shopping for Gendry so that could work. Robb would be a bit useless, I guess, but the girls seem to like him. And Mother and Father are welcome to come along if they like. Not sure what they’d make of it all to be honest!

**A family affair then?**

Ha, maybe. But truthfully, it’ll probably just be Jon and I tagging along for now.

**When do you and Mr Waters propose to be married?**

As soon as this tour gives us a moment! _The Wildings_ are so in demand right now. I don’t need to tell you that there are crowds clamouring for them all over Westeros.

**And you were one of their original devotees?**

_She laughs and looks proud._

I liked them before they were cool. I like to remind Gendry of that whenever I can.

**You and Mr Waters come from very different backgrounds. Has that ever been a point of tension between you or posed any difficulties for your family?**

_Arya stiffens. Her body language shifts from relaxed to rigid._

What are you suggesting?

**I only mean to say that Mr Waters has not grown up in a castle, nor has he been used to the kind of public scrutiny you’ve grown up with. Has that created any problems?**

You’re bonkers if you think that Gendry hasn’t had to get used to public scrutiny. He’s in the biggest musical act in all of Westeros. He gets mobbed far more regularly than I do.

**He’s very handsome, isn’t he? I remember teasing you about your crush on him when we spoke years ago.**

_She smiles at the thought of him, visibly relaxing._

Gendry is lovely. What can I say? I’m a lucky girl.

**How would Princess Sansa dress him if you let her pick his clothes?**

Sansa loves the bulk of Gendry, his height, his broad shoulders. She loves to put him in tailored slacks and soft knits. The sort of stuff he hates. I’ll have to keep an eye on her actually. She seems to really enjoy appreciating the pull of the fabric across his muscles.

**I’ll admit to finding myself a bit glassy-eyed at the thought!**

_Arya dramatically fans at her face._

You and me both!

 **You and Gendry both looked lovely in the bridal party at Prince Jon’s wedding to Ygritte. It’s not often we see a woman** **_and_ ** **her fiancé among the groom’s attendants!**

_She smiles softly._

I love all my siblings, of course, but Jon and I have always shared a special bond. When he asked me to be his best man and Gendry and Robb to be his groomsmen we were all so thoroughly delighted.

**Jon and Gendry get on then?**

Sometimes Ygritte and I joke that the two of them should have married one another! Every so often we send them off camping somewhere with Robb. The three of them come back almost speaking their own language, they’re that in sync with one another.

**Another love story that our readers might not know about is that one of your security guards, Grey Worm, is also in a relationship with a Wilding.**

Yeah, Grey Worm and The Hound! No one saw that coming!

_She giggles uncontrollably._

Can you imagine? No, thankfully, Grey Worm has found someone with about 400% more humanity than himself, who still somehow manages to tolerate him.

**He’s certainly been photographed smiling more in the last year than he ever has before.**

I don’t think he knew how to smile before Missandei took a shine to him. Now he’s always grinning like an idiot. It’s a bit unsettling actually.

**Anyone on the cards for Tormund or The Hound then?**

I doubt it! You’ve seen them.

**Tormund’s quite fit!**

Want me to introduce you? He’ll be up for it. You’re way too good for him, though.

**Tell us what you love most about Gendry.**

_There’s that soft smile again._

Gendry’s so strong. He’s a fighter, you know? And to him I’m not just another rich girl. He’s fought for me since the day we met. I don’t deserve him, not even a little bit. But one day we just saw one another and that was it. Every touch electric, every look fire, ever since.

**We heard a sweet story that Gendry wanted to buy something for you, that he planned it for a long time. He’s only recently managed it, is that right?**

That’s correct.

**What did he buy for you? Are we allowed to know?**

He didn’t just buy it for me, he made it for me.

**He made it? What?**

_She holds up her left hand, showing me a wide white gold band on her ring finger, dotted with tiny cornflower blue sapphires._

A while ago Gendry came by a sum of money, I won’t tell you how, and he’d committed to spending it on me.

**At the time he believed he’d never have the chance, is that right?**

Goodness, you’ve done your research.

**But then he proposed and you accepted him, so the time was right?**

And he went and learned how to make me an engagement ring under the supervision of the royal jewellers here in Winterfell.

**And he’s made you a pair of wedding bands too? His and hers?**

That’s right.

**Is Gendry surprised at how all of this turned out?**

He’s funny you know, I keep catching him pinching himself. You can barely see it under his tatts but he’s given himself a shocking bruise. I swear, it’s bluer than the ink.

**Because he can’t believe it’s all real?**

That’s what he says.

**You’ll have to convince him.**

That’s the plan.

_She laughs softly._

That’s the plan for the rest of our lives.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for Inky Blue! Love to hear if you liked it!
> 
> If you did, keep an eye out for "Head of the River" coming soon to AO3. Here's the description so far:
> 
> Gendry Waters, multiple Pan Westeros Games gold medal winning rower, has been the highly successful and well-loved Director of Rowing at the exclusive Riverlands Grammar School for five years now. Ser Davos Seaworth has very recently retired as school principal and been replaced by the much younger multiple gold medal winning fencer from the North, Dr Arya Stark.  
> One morning Gendry finds himself approached by his new boss. She wants him to teach her how to row.
> 
> (In which Gendry is still rowing and Gendry and Arya spend time in a boat together.)

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been writing this other Gendrya thing (called "Doomed" if you're interested) which is the first fic I've published for this fandom. I have been STAGGERED by the response. You guys are so enthusiastic and generous!  
> It seems there really are others of you out there who love a fic where you can hopefully imagine Gendry's lines coming out of Joe Dempsie's mouth and where there's at least a hint of bromance between Gendry and Jon.  
> These are two things I LOVE to write. I'd really be chuffed to know if they're working for you in this fic!  
> And a first for me in this funny world of fanfic - this one is entirely finished before I've published even a bit of it! I never do this!  
> Here is the first of eight chapters. Love to know if you like it!


End file.
